Taking care
by Vault-Emblem
Summary: Miles is at Phoenix's house and he gets sick. What will Phoenix do? [Set in between Apollo Justice and Dual Destinies]


**TAKING CARE**

That day couldn't have started in a worse way for Miles Edgeworth.

First of all, he couldn't have his morning tea because he stayed at Wright's house to keep him company, since his daughter, Trucy, was at a sleepover with her friends; that alone was enough to make him very grumpy, but there was worse: Phoenix was preventing him to leave under the assumption that he was sick.

What a foolish statement, he wasn't sick at all. Sure, he was having some trouble focusing, but it was just because he had slept just for a very few hours, thanks to Wright.

The fact that he once tried to stand still but felt on the mattress since he was too weak was also a mere coincidence.

\- It's obvious that you're sick, Miles-, Phoenix said, trying to convince the prosecutor to stay still.

\- You're burning and you're weaker than usual. Do you have a headache too?-, he added.

\- You're the one giving me and headache!-, the other exclaimed, - now, let me go! I have to work for a case!-, he ordered, however Wright continued to not listen to him.

\- All right, mister "I am totally well", if you wait for a moment I will show you the definitive evidence that you're sick!-, he said, quickly leaving the room. Even thought he wasn't an attorney anymore, he still acted like one, sometimes.

* * *

Some time passed and Phoenix hadn't still shown up, and Miles couldn't grasp the reason. What was he doing? What did he have in mind?

\- I'm baaaack!-, the ex-attorney sang, rushing at the prosecutor's side.

\- Where were you? I don't have time for your games!-, the other snapped, staring at Phoenix so badly that he could almost feel them piercing his skin.

\- Actually, you have plenty of time, since you'll stay here-, Wright retorted, showing what he had taken so much time to get. It was a thermometer.

\- Here-, he said, handing the object to Edgeworth, - since you're not sick you won't mind taking your temperature, right?-, he concluded, smirking.

Miles rolled his eyes.

\- Once this farce is over, will you let me go?-, he asked, taking the thermometer.

\- Only if you really don't have a fever-, Wright said, smirking.

He was very sure about Edgeworth's sickness, as well as the prosecutor was certain about his good condition. They only had to show the other how wrong he was.

* * *

In the end, Phoenix was right: Miles had a slight fever. It wasn't too bad, still he prohibited the prosecutor to leave the house in order to not worsen his condition and Edgeworth couldn't do nothing but comply; despite his appearance, the ex-attorney was a really stubborn person.

* * *

Miles had to admit it, getting sick from time to time wasn't that bad, especially because he had Wright taking care of him. It was like a mother spoiling his child, letting him stay on the couch, watching everything he wanted on TV – which was fortunately broadcasting re-runs of Steel Samurai- cuddling him and even cooking his favourite dish – not that Wright was such an excellent cook but it was the thought that counted.

* * *

When Trucy came back she was very happy to find out that Miles was still around and she joined them on the couch.

It felt strange for the prosecutor, it felt warm. It felt like family, and it was a beautiful sensation.

* * *

Phoenix definitely didn't see it coming when he felt Edgeworth's lips on his cheek; in fact, even though it was obvious that the prosecutor was enjoying his day off, he had been very grumpy, at least at first. He had to work on a case but, in the end, he wouldn't have concluded much in that state.

\- What was that for?-, Wright asked, looking at him quizzically.

\- I'm not really sure myself...- Miles mumbled, leaning his head against Phoenix's shoulder.

The other man nodded absent-mindedly, putting his arm around the prosecutor's shoulders, making him closer. He was really enjoying having him all for himself – and without any worry about work- until he sensed some movements on the other side of the couch.

\- Trucy, what are you doing?-, he asked, turning his head to his daughter.

\- Well...-, she started to say, laughing and rubbing her hands nervously, - I just thought that you wanted to spend some time alone, so I was...-

\- Trucy, come here-, Miles surprisingly said, extending his arm to emphasize his invitation.

He didn't need to say it twice; in fact the girl immediately sat on the couch again, using the prosecutor as a pillow.

Phoenix chuckled at that sight; despite the initial awkwardness Miles and Trucy got along very well to the point that she had make clear that she really wished that they could all move together, so she could enjoy both of his dad's presence. Yes, she considered Miles his father as well as she considered Phoenix.

* * *

After taking Trucy to bed – the poor girl was so tired she felt asleep on Miles- Phoenix returned where the prosecutor was.

\- So, how are you now?-, he asked, sitting beside him.

\- Better, thanks to you-, Edgeworth admitted, patting the ex-attorney's head. He wasn't such a sore loser to refuse to admit that Phoenix was right all along and that he indeed made him feel better.

\- Eh eh, happy to hear that-, the other said before picking him up unexpectedly.

\- W-what are you doing, Wright?!-, Miles exclaimed, taken by surprise.

\- I'm taking you to bed too-, the other nonchalantly answered, - you aren't still entirely recovered. You can't stay up late-.

Edgeworth didn't reply; he felt like a baby carried by his father. Well, now that he thought about it, Phoenix had actually talked to him like he was a child, but he really didn't want to start an argument about that. He just sighed, letting him doing what he wanted, if that made him feel good.

When they arrived in the bedroom Phoenix placed gently Miles on the sheets before laying beside him.

\- 'Night, Miles-, he said, pulling the prosecutor closer.

\- Good night, Phoenix-, the other answered, letting his eyes close and his body relax.

* * *

\- Good morning, Phoe... is something wrong?-

\- I don't feel very well, I think I'm the one with the fever, now...-

\- Gods, Wright-.


End file.
